


Let It Be Easy

by paperiuni



Category: Enslaved: Odyssey to the West
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Non-Graphic Smut, Sparring, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperiuni/pseuds/paperiuni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monkey, Trip, and a sunny morning somewhere in the wilds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Be Easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbells/gifts).



> Here's a little thing that hopefully combines a few things you asked for. It turned out pretty uncomplicated--a snapshot of a better future, really--but maybe in some world, these two can find an easier path.
> 
> Have a lovely Yuletide!

Trip spun, dropped her knees to the ground and swept her practice staff at Monkey's legs. Predictably he leapt before the swing could connect. Stepping to her left, he began a diagonal downward strike that would have split her head at full force. She didn't tarry. Staff to the ground, right palm slapped down next to it, she rolled sideways over her shoulder to escape his reach. The grass crunched under her bare feet.

When he came after her, she had the staff up in time to deflect his blow, though it took a two-handed grip for her to brace the resilient length of wood.

Scrubbing a hand across his face, he let his own weapon clatter into the dense, sun-browned grass. "Better than last time. Remembered to keep your toes to the ground."

Sweat ran freely down her skin, but she noted to her satisfaction that he sounded a little out of breath. Not so long ago, he'd just knocked her about at will during their sparring bouts. Now, she was slowly finding her own strengths.

"You said you wouldn't tell me twice." As gentle as he could be with her in most things, in this he'd turned out a pretty stern taskmaster. There was a point to it. Roaming mechs or robber gangs were unlikely to ask nicely before doing their damnedest to kill them.

"Don't often need to tell you twice."

She stretched her arms towards the washed-out sky, dotted with cotton-candy clouds. "Is there a prize for not dying this time?" _Dying_ being that point in the spar where he could have dealt a lethal injury. "First dip in the creek?"

The area they were travelling through was lush with late summer, trees in their dark green splendour and berries ripening in the bushes. Down the slope from their sparring spot a clear-watered stream babbled between tall clusters of reeds.

"Want to bet you smell worse than me?" Monkey huffed. He was possibly right. Maybe there wasn't much difference, since their separate bedrolls had recently merged into one, and despite the warm nights they tended to wake up in various stages of entanglement. 

"No," she said lightly. "And I'll take that as a yes."

He went to pick up the roughly made staves they'd used. Trip lingered. There was nothing extraordinary about watching him move, relaxed and easy, with his usual loose grace that could translate into fierce, focused agility. He'd been her principal company for almost a year. She'd had time to get used to the sight of him.

Nothing extraordinary, and plenty. There was a maddening pouring of warmth down her spine when she looked at him lately.

She couldn't quite explain the change. Maybe enough time had passed since the events of last year. Maybe they were far enough away that it felt like the summer country around them could shelter and provide as well as threaten.

She rocked back on her heels and breathed in.

"You still there?" Monkey gave her a slanted look.

"Come with me?" She tried to sound breezy. As if there weren't suddenly a weight in the suggestion.

His expression turned bemused. They hadn't really _discussed_ the shared sleeping arrangement. They'd slipped into it, like into so many other things that were now routine. 

"Trip," he said, low. She almost backtracked. He'd caught the undertone in her. It had been wound into the spar as well. He was her partner, her protector and her touchstone. When had that stopped being enough?

"Never mind," she muttered. "I'll just..."

He rested the staves against a rock and came over to her. She swallowed hard. She'd made it serious, this wild tumbling feeling that kept pushing and pulling her, and now it was impossible to ignore.

"Tell me twice." Monkey's voice was a little gruff, as always, but laced with something else that made her insides shiver. "Just so I heard you right."

Laughter burst from her before she could bar it, soft and breathy, embarrassed and relieved. "Come with me. Okay?"

By the time the words were out, her hands landed on his shoulders. He lifted her without apparent effort, arms under her thighs, and she barely caught the affirmation he grumbled against her throat. Breathtaking affection suffused her.

Then he strode the few paces down to the creek, well wide enough for a proper swim, and unceremoniously dumped her into the water.

She surfaced with a splutter and came at him with a yell of laughter-laced defiance. "Oh my god, you--some way that's to--"

"You don't gotta get so serious."As she waded ashore, Monkey dropped onto his haunches, eyes fixed on her dripping face. "It's okay, Trip. We're okay. Whatever way you want us to be."

She put a wet hand on his cheek, torn between indignation and helpless love. She loved him, she did, this she had known for a while. Whatever else this world threw at her, he was her constant.

"This way is pretty good," she breathed, and he met her halfway when she dipped her head to kiss him.

They ended up in the water for a while. She peeled off her soaked clothes, swearing and chuckling, then told him he could get out of his either dry or waterlogged, so help her. Everything was new and and yet not; they knew one another. As he floated, she draped herself over Monkey's back, the water barely deep enough for him to submerge himself. He spun and she with him, and he caught her in a fumbling, toe-curling kiss.

The dense energy of their practice bout dissipated into the climbing heat of the day and into a slower, more tender charge between them. They stumbled ashore, Trip happily wrapped in his arms, and fell into the grass under the swaying shadows of the trees.

She painted again the swirling lines of his tattoos with wet fingers. He found the dip at the small of her back where his hand fit, sure and steadying, as he stroked her open and then, with head-spinning care, up inside her. She bit back a whimper, then another, until they spilled unfettered. Her fisted hands trembled against his shoulders.

Muttering frustration and fondness, he let her return the favour and drag heady, undignified noises from him in turn. She laid her head on his chest, wrapped her fingers around him as firmly as she could, and treasured every sharp, wanting breath that built in his chest.

Then they lay boneless and drowsy on the bank, swam again, and eventually spread their clothes to dry on the sun-baked rocks by the stream. Trip dove into a thicket after a prize of ripe raspberries and came back with her fingers berry-red to the knuckles. The day wore on. Not much had changed, only enough.


End file.
